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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447628">i was a teenage hand model</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsymiss/pseuds/artsymiss'>artsymiss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alexs pride gets in the way, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escapism, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Matt is just trying to help, Miles goes on tour, My First AO3 Post, Sad, Self-Indulgent, Separation Anxiety, Solitary Confinement, Songfic, Touch-Starved, alex can't handle it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:08:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsymiss/pseuds/artsymiss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Songfic based off of "i was a teenage hand model" by Queens Of The Stone Age.<br/>Alex is abandoned in his apartment when Miles leaves to go on tour. It's harder to live alone than he thought.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miles Kane/Alex Turner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this turned out way longer than I meant it to be so sorry about that. It's my first real fic that I have put legitimate effort into so please go easy on me lmao</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Cozied up to the toilet </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Face stuck to the floor</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alex awoke to find himself peeling his sweaty skin from his bathroom tile, lost and unmotivated. He sat up. He rubbed his face in his hands. He sighed. The toilet in front of Alex seemed to stare at him with this humiliating scowl that left him to look back down at his knees, ashamed that he woke up like this again. That he woke up again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, he was such a fucking mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing up, he didn’t dare look into the bowl, knowing something foul awaited him. The smell was obvious. He flushed the toilet, finding the hand towel that’s been hanging there for too long a more comforting target than whatever he threw up last night. Once the water stopped rushing in his ears, Alex grabbed some toilet paper and wiped the seat clean. Fucking gross.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He washed his hands. He dried them on that dirty ass towel he was looking at a second ago. But then he was prevented with the first challenge today would have to offer: does he look up from the sink into his reflection? Does he tilt his head up that little 30 degrees, and see how filthy whoever stared back was? He’s kidding himself. He knows he’s going to look. He just wants it to hurt more when he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he does. And he’s not disappointed. Alex Turner has the sleek greased hair look he sported every day of 2013, minus the hair product he intentionally combed through it. Alex Turner has the hollowed cheeks of a Hollywood star whose life had taken a dark path (in other words, himself). Alex Turner’s eyes looked haunted. Like they had seen terrible things not one moment before, and not yet had the time to process it. He was skinny, probably at his skinniest. His short sleeve shirt didn’t fit him very well. He looked back down, thinking about how bad he probably smelled. He looked sick. He looked depressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about splashing cold water on his face. He didn’t. Then he thought about how he should take a shower, yeah, he should definitely take a shower today. But he wouldn’t find the time. He pushed the cracked door open wider and slipped out into the hallway, before sneaking his way into his living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex’s apartment is trashed. Blankets thrown all over the couch. Crumbs everywhere. Dirty dishes. Books he swears he’s going to read. And the bottles. Dear god, there’s so many bottles everywhere. He simply hasn’t found the time to give the place a proper clean. He hasn’t found the time to do a lot of things. Wow, he must be so busy, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I met expectations</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That i was trying to ignore</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If anyone came to this apartment and took photos, he’d be screwed. If he went out in public and some reporters showed up, his reputation would be ruined. He’s always put on this persona of a nonchalant, laid back, careless rockstar. What would happen if that all got leaked? The suave, famous lady killer would be humiliated. His image, ruined. Sometimes people criticized him because the version of Alex that does interviews and shows is so different from the one that lives here. The one that is dating Miles. The real him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Alex was not famous because he was happy. Alex was not famous because his life is together. He’s famous because he’s talented, because he knows how to work up a crowd and charm an interviewer. He is supposed to get out there and give them a good show, have a good time and party. And then when the tour’s over he’s supposed to go home and write another album and go on tour again. God, is this all his life is? Writing, recording, touring… that’s all that ever seems to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But no matter how existential his expectations make him, Alex always meets them. Alex does the job. He gets it done and he gets it done right. He could go out on stage and </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to suck but nothing would happen. He’s a damn good musician, a damn good performer. He’s just not the most happy one. At least not as of late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait, isn’t he supposed to be writing that new album right now? Isn’t that why he’s “taking a break” in the first place? That's why Miles isn’t here, because he’s on tour right now. The pair has never really been separate this long. They did both of the Shadow Puppets tours, and now Miles is out there performing for his latest album. Would Miles have to live like this the next time Alex goes on tour with the monkeys?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shakes his head. If he thinks about Miles anymore he’s going to spiral. He did the same thing last night, actually he’s done it quite a few nights in a row now. He knows today’s binge drinking session is inevitable but there’s no need to start this early in the day, say, what time is it anyway? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the clock tells Alex it’s 12:53 he’s ashamed of himself. He’s been feeling like that a lot lately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But hey, that’s the rockstar lifestyle! Alex thinks to himself bitterly that he wishes everyone could see him now. Wallowing in the misery he’s cooked up for himself. Living alone in this filthy apartment, spending his life savings on booze. Well, he’s not normally alone. Normally Miles is here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Job had such patience</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder, what’s that like?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he remembers. No, he does not have to be working on new music right now. He probably should. It would be good for him and it would make him happy. But again, he just cannot find the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex had a conversation with Matt a few months ago. That was right after the end of the last tour, right before Miles left. Before he got like this. Miles had told him not to rush it, that if he needed to take a break it’s okay. They wanted to spend time with their familes anyway. He can’t help but wonder, does he deserve the patience Matt, Jamie, and Nick show him? Has he earned the break he so desperately needed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t feel like it. It doesn’t even feel like he was taking a break. Miles isn’t here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge, looking for something to eat. He should probably eat. Miles would want him to eat. He can hear him saying it now, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Al, please. You can’t just drink booze and cry all day. I need you to eat for me. You’re not well.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex hears it so vividly he turns and looks around, thinking Miles is actually here. But he’s not. Tonight’s show is in Tokyo and Alex is in New York. There are still a few more weeks left in this tour. He’s not coming home anytime soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex pulls his head out of the clouds and focuses back on the fridge. Shocker, there’s nothing there. Nothing but beer and champagne. He’s saving the champagne for when Miles gets back so he grabs a beer and looks in the cupboard. Dry pasta, refried beans, peanut butter, chicken stock… not much. They’re leftovers from when Miles was still here and would cook for the two of them almost every night. Miles is everywhere around here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A spoonful of peanutbutter and a can of beer. What a healthy breakfast at almost 1:00 in the afternoon. He’s doing great. He needs to go to the store but… he probably can’t show himself out in public like this. Or bring himself to take a shower and change his clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A knock at the door.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>One hundred thousand million years</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s what you like?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So i was thinking…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows it’s not Miles. But he can’t help but hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is it?” Alex calls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Matt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex swears and frantically looks around the room. This is gonna be embarrassing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” It comes out meaner than he intended, “I mean, I- why didn’t you call?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears a sign from the other side of the door while rushing to pick up as many bottles as possible without making them clang together to give him away. It’s a lot harder than it sounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did call. You never answered. So here I am. Won’t you let me in, Al? I’m trying to help you. I haven’t seen you in a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need your help.” Fuck. Why did he say that? “I just. Matt, why-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For god’s sake, Alex, open the door. I’m sick of yelling at you through it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He panics, and decides to just not let him in. They’ll talk in the hallway. He opens the door and slips through the smallest crack possible. He forgot to fix his hair. He forgot that he’s only wearing boxers, that his skinny frame is on full display. He goes to open the door and run back in, shutting out Matt completely, tell him that he’ll call him later, but Matt stops him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you serious? Let me in. I’m not going to judge you, I’m your friend.” Alex finds that hard to believe, “I can only imagine how bad you must be feeling with Miles gone and you living alone. I just want to make you feel better, okay? To check on you? Jamie and Nick are worried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex stares back. He’s torn. He really doesn’t want Matt’s help but… he needs it. He needs someone to help him get back to normal. He just doesn’t want to have to give up his pride to get it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments go by. Matt waits patiently dor a response, but it’s clear that he’s losing patience the longer Alex goes without opening the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Matt. Please.” He looks so disappointed, so defeated. “I really appreciate it. But I want to beat this on my own. I don’t want you to see me like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt sighs. “Okay. Alright. Sorry to drop by like this. But I did call. Check your phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex believes him. Matt wouldn’t lie like that. They exchange goodbyes and Alex promises to invite him back over in a few weeks. He intends to keep that promise. The door opens again and Alex slides back in. Did he actually clean up those bottles before he went out into the hallway? The room looks the same as before. Everything looks the same to Alex nowadays.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phone. Matt told him to check his phone. Where was it? He hasn’t seen it in quite a while. After digging around for a few minutes he finds it under his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt has called him once or twice a week for a while now. Alex feels bad. He’s been a bad friend. And then he feels worse, because Miles has called and texted him frequently. He’s been a bad boyfriend. He can’t bring himself to listen to the voicemails, can’t force himself to read the texts too far back. So he calls Miles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He answers after one ring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Alex! Al, baby, oh my god. Thank you so much for calling. I don’t know what’s been going on, why you haven’t answered me, but please don’t feel bad. It’s okay! Whats- what’s up? What have you been up to?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. He should have thought this through. Alex is way too emotionally exhausted after what happened with Matt. And that wasn’t much. He’s just so… drained all the time. So tired. Should he hang up? No. That would be a terrible thing to do. He ran from Matt, he shouldn’t run from Miles too. He should probably answer now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Well, you know, not much just… hangin out. Umm… I’ve been writing a little bit. You know me, I’m just never on my phone, I don’t trust it. Damn thing died and I just never charged it, haha…” He trails off. That was such a bullshit story. There’s no way that Miles doesn’t see right through that. But he’s too nice to call him out on it. Alex drops the little persona he’s put on, the fake ‘yeah, I’m okay!’ face. “I’m sorry, Miles. It’s shitty of me to ignore you. I’m not like, mad or anything. Are you mad at me? You should be. Not been the best boyfriend lately…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miles is quick to interject. “No, no. None of that, love. I’m not mad at you. I’m just so glad you called. I know how hard shit is. I miss ya terribly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex takes a deep breath. It’s been so long since he’s heard Miles’s voice, he can’t seem to get enough of him. “I love you, Miles. And I miss you too. Missed the sound of that voice. Just hope being away from me this long didn’t make you realize you didn’t need me anymore or anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite the opposite, actually. Realized I need you to function properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. Yeah. Me too, believe it or not. I’m a fucking mess without you, Miles.” Alex’s voice cracks and he hopes Miles didn’t hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I come home, I’m not going to let you out of my sight for a single second. Seriously, Al. We’re gonna go on dates, and we’re gonna go shopping, and I’m going to spoil you so much, Aly you have no clue. You’re not ready for it. You’re gonna drown in my attention,” Miles says. “Of course, if that’s what you want. Don’t wanna overwhelm you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex swoons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, duh. Obviously that’s what I want.” He pauses, then says: “Never leave me, Miles. This is proving to me how much I need you. I don’t think we’ve been apart this long before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a silence. Miles sighs. Alex thinks for a moment that he’s gone too far, he’s being needy again and Miles is weirded out by how affectionate he is. But then he says something Alex won’t ever forget.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m never leaving you, babe. Promise. I will stay with you for… forever. I- I can’t express it to you. You and me, for- for a million years, ok? I will choose you, over anyone, for a million years I swear by it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex’s heart throbs. He doesn’t know what to say. </span>
</p><p><span>“Come home, Miles. Please. I need you for just an hour. For God’s sake. How many shows do you have left?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Don’t know. I think it’s around like 15? But the US leg is next. My next show is in California, Alex. I’ll be in New York in like, a few weeks. Can you wait two weeks?”</span></p><p>
  <span>His heart skips a beat. Miles! He’ll get to see Miles soon! The excitement floods his veins and his face forms into this surprised expression that feels so abnormal on his skin. Alex’s face has been frozen in the same apathetic frown ever since Miles first left. He hasn’t really smiled in a while. He didn’t even notice. But talking to Miles has made him feel so much better. He has a reason to survive another few weeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They talk a little more and Alex remembers to lie to Miles about how well he’s doing. He can’t know the extent of this episode he’s having. None of the details, at least. Alex saves face for a while while he finishes his conversation with Miles, and makes a mental note to get his shit together in the 15 exact days until Miles will arrive on his doorstep.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>-</span>
  <em>
    <span>14 days later-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s panicking. He can’t do it. He couldn’t do it. It was too much, he forgot, he… he couldn’t handle it. The looming threat of his messy bed he never slept in anymore, the dirty laundry, the lack of food, the overconsumption of alcohol, it was too much. He had taken a shower and that was all he could take. Now Miles will be here in, what? 13 hours? The dread has formed itself into a heavy weight in his stomach. He should be excited. Dread and anxiety cycles into shame and shame turns to self-hate. It’s a vicious cycle. He needs to vacuum. He’s a bad boyfriend. He looks terrible. The counters are a mess. A hug would be nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After more drinking to numb his feelings, Alex is frantically cleaning. He manages to get any bottles into the trash can, and wipe down the kitchen counters, and make the bed, but… it’s tiring. A cup of coffee can’t hurt, right? Maybe it’ll get him excited, or hyper? It’s worth a shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the options swarm his brain. It’s a lot. He has a million things to do and he doesn’t know what order he should do them in. He stands in the hallway, desperately trying to ground himself. Pick a room, stupid. It’s not that hard. But it is that hard. And he can’t breathe, and he’s dizzy, and did he drink too much? How much did he drink? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex pants and his head begins to float off his shoulders. The pillows for the couch are on the floor. He should clean the toilet. He needs to go to the laundromat. There’s nothing for Miles to eat when he gets here. Does he call and cancel? His head hurts. He can’t feel his hands. What’s going on? Wasn’t he just in the hallway? How did he get into the bathroom? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He locks eyes with his reflection again. Is that really what he looks like? His hair is so long. Should he cut it himself? Miles will make fun of him when he sees him. Alex can’t take this anymore. His knees are weak. The dishes need to be washed. His breathing is shallow. It smells bad in here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait, is that the floor? How did he get on the floor? That was quite a headrush. Get up, dummy. There’s work to be done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s out like a light before he can even notice that he’s fading.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Miles has called Alex quite a few times with no answer, and now he’s worried. It’s 2:00, the time that they said Miles should arrive. After knocking for a few minutes and the door hasn’t opened, he tries to remember if he even has the key to Alex’s place anymore. It takes a few different keys on his keychain but he finds it, and the door unlocks, and he’s in Alex’s apartment for the first time in a while. He’s back home again, at least for a night or so between shows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he opens the door, it’s dark. The lights are out. Why are the lights out? Is Alex even home? He flips the lights on. He tears up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The place is trashed. It looks like Alex has made himself a little cave for himself. Miles’s heart sinks as he walks further into the apartment and calls out to Alex, with no answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he finds him, the love of his life, laid on the floor of their bathroom. After checking to make sure he’s okay, by seeing that he’s breathing and, you know, has a pulse, he sadly carries his boyfriend to their bed. Lays him down and takes the situation in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miles takes a deep breath and decides to clean for him. He notices the large amount of alcohol on the premises, and the lack of food in the kitchen, and ties that to how light Alex was when he held him. He washes some dishes, gets the dirty laundry into the correct basket, tidies up the place a little bit. And when he’s done, Miles brings himself into the bedroom, and curls up with Alex in bed. He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t even notice that Alex is awake for a moment. Or that he’s crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my, Aly. It’s okay! I’m here, love. I’ve got you, okay?” Miles gently turns Alex onto his back, and sits him upright. “Baby, don’t cry, I’m right here! It’s me, Miles, and I’m right here with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All Alex does is continue to weep, but he also grapples his arms onto Miles’s back, and he straddles his lap as he wept into his boyfriend’s shoulder. What once were silent tears, streaming from his cheeks onto the pillow, had turned into painful hiccuping sobs that cascaded into Miles’s shoulder. The cries broke Miles’s heart. But all he could do was sit there with his love in his lap, rubbing small circles on his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex began to babble mindlessly into his shoulder. It was clear that he was trying to explain the reason behind his tears, but Miles was having none of it. He shushed Alex gently, begging him to save his breath and just let it all out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Alex finished crying, he was exhausted. He laid half asleep on the bed, cuddled up to Miles’s side. When Miles looked down at him, Alex’s eyes were vacant and empty. He was obviously buried neck deep in whatever it was that has been causing him this much stress. Miles remembered the few days before he left for the tour when Al’s eyes were bright, expressive, and happy. It would be a lie to say that these eyes he sees now belong to the same person Miles saw those days before leaving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit in silence for a long time. Miles stares down the ceiling fan, while Alex seems to be trying to formulate exactly what he wants to say in his head. The fan above them spins. The door to the bedroom is slightly cracked, and the light from the living room is dripping in. The matching bedsheets are wrapping themselves around the couple, protecting them while also forcing them to interact with each other. There’s a lamp and 2 phones on the nightstand. Next to that is an alarm clock that reads around 4:38 PM. It was too early for them to go to bed, but too late for them to take a nap. The quiet suffocates them. The lack of speech was so painstakingly obvious that each of the men were on the edge of their metaphorical seats, waiting for the other to speak first. A fed up Miles decides to take on the responsibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, Al. We’ve got to talk about this.” He grips under Alex’s arms and lifts him up, so he straddles Miles' legs again. Alex faces his boyfriend and feels self conscious on full display like this. His arms find themselves folding over his stomach to make himself look smaller, and the dark brown eyes embedded in his skull gaze down at his lover’s stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He says. “We do.” His voice is so quiet that Miles’ ears must strain to hear it over the ceiling fan. Alex undeniably has tried to shut himself off, and remain as distant from Miles as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about I just go one question at a time, hm? So that you don’t have to explain everything all at once?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a small void in time before Alex responded. It was short, yes, but to Miles it felt like a full minute. The hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the bathroom fan, and the air conditioner harmonized together, forming beautiful backing vocals to Alex’s next verse. It’s coming soon, Miles thinks. He can feel it. Alex is about to sing his response. What will it be? Will it seep with rage and ice to form a thick, tar-like black metal song? Or will he spare Miles further pain, and sing a sad song of bittersweet acceptance, with the ticking of the ceiling fan as the major percussion? The star speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds nice. What’s your first question?” It seems Alex chose the latter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flood of relief floods the streets that are Miles’ veins. He answers,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about you start off by telling me why our apartment was so messy when I first got here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex takes a deep breath. This will be harder than he thought. He sits in Miles’ lap, focusing on his big hands resting on his hips. He uses those hands to keep himself here, in this room with his boyfriend. His deep breaths hold his body steady. While he focuses on not drifting away into his head, he also searches for an answer to this first question. A moment passes. Then he finds his answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, well. I guess I just missed you. Like a lot. I’ve… kind of just fallen off the rails. I stopped taking care of myself. N’ because of that I didn’t really wanna go out and shop for more food. So I got really skinny. And all I really wanted to do was drink so I could stop thinking about how much I missed you or how much I couldn’t fucking stand myself, So. There’s your answer. Next question please.” Alex’s voice shakes and you could eat a 3 course meal in between the pauses between sentences. He focuses on his hands and watches them wring themselves out without him ever telling them to. His hands are dry now. Does he even have lotion anymore? Or did Miles take that when he left, too?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex finds himself clinging onto every sound Miles makes. When Miles exhales his deep breath and begins to speak he is utterly captivated right away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling like that. I just- I wish you’d be comfortable enough with me to tell me that you’ve been depressed. I would have dropped everything to make you better, babe, you know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word “depressed” makes Alex roll his eyes in his head. He knows Miles is right, and that he has been extremely self destructive recently. But he hates how obvious it is, how there is no hiding from the state of this apartment. He cannot burrow himself into his brain and shrug any questions of “Are you feeling okay?’ off with “Yes, I’m fine” because his surroundings directly contradict him. And it pisses him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you anything. I guess I just wanted to fix it all on my own. You know how I get with my pride sometimes.” Alex looks up for a moment and catches Miles’s eyes. He stares for a good minute or so and then glances down at his lips. He longs for Miles to just reach out to him and touch him and hold him and kiss him. It’s been so long since he’s felt his touch and it’s killing him. But he knows that they both have to communicate better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miles nods and follows up with the next part of this conversation. “Ok, Al. Now how about you tell me why you were asleep on the bathroom floor when I got here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex explains his anxiety attack the hours before Miles arrived. After a few more questions he’s so tired and cold and lonely even though he’s here with Miles. He starts shaking, and seems to shrink into himself even further. Again, he finds himself longing for Miles to just let this go and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>hold </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. He tries to answer and explain himself to Miles as best as he can but it’s getting harder when all he has is the hands on his hips and the thighs he is sitting on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miles cracks some petty joke. Alex gives a little scoof of a laugh but whatever temporary smile that was included transitioned into a deep frown. This is painful. To be this close to him but not having his hands all over him. Being forced to watch Miles’s lips create words to comfort and kindness, instead of just being used to kiss him senseless. Alex is hurting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment Miles stops talking and looks at Alex and notices. He must be a mind reader or something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miles cups Alex’s face in his hands, and the way he keens into his hand is fascinating. He reaches up and rests his hand atop Miles’s, pushing his hand further into his cheek. His eyes flutter shut and he goes limp. It would be humiliating if it wasn’t so relieving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, baby.” Miles tears up a little. “I’m so sorry. Come here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miles’ arms snake around Alex, pulling him in closer for a proper hug. The hands at the ends of those arms run up his back and caress his shoulder blades. Miles tucks his chin into the crook of Alex’s neck, and Alex nearly passes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a long long time, they lay there. With Alex clinging onto Miles for dear life, gentle tears of relief streaming from his eyes. With Miles shushing his boyfriend, running his big hands through Al’s hair. Holding his hand, and giving him enough love to make up for all the time he’s missed. They fall asleep like that.</span>
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